


i can see your heart beneath your ribcage

by Kittog



Series: you should save your heart for me [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Friends With Benefits, Jackson Just Wants To Be Loved, M/M, Smut, jinyoung somehow owns lingerie, they don't do much studying in this one though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittog/pseuds/Kittog
Summary: jackson traces the words he'll never say out loud against jinyoung's skin. (among other things)
Relationships: Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Series: you should save your heart for me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156409
Comments: 14
Kudos: 47





	i can see your heart beneath your ribcage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [omgahgase](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgahgase/gifts).



> title from "easy to love me" by hope tala
> 
> miah gave me *another* prompt, it was *once again* meant to be a drabble but i decided to add 1.5k words of filthy context beforehand, so here we are. this is a series now. you're welcome. 
> 
> unbeta'd but a big thank you to syster for helping me out with the rhythm for this one! your tips helped a bunch, hope it shows well <3

Time moves differently in Jinyoung's apartment. Jackson's figured it out a while ago: once he walks past the door, time can no longer be measured with the help of his watch nor with the clock hanging above one of the many bookshelves which reside in the living room. Beneath the bedsheets of Jinyoung's bed, against the used leather sofa, under the hot streams of water falling dismally on the tiled floor, Jackson loses himself in the time he is given too easily.

There's always something that tears him away from this referential. Sometimes it's Jinyoung's phone and the stupid alarms he sets off throughout the day, not to omit certain things. Some other times, it's a deadline that is waiting by the doorstep of Jackson's place, almost threatening. Whatever it is, it always annoys Jackson terribly, to be pulled back into the awfully real reminder which came along with his routine: there is no space for him in Jinyoung's reality beyond these closed walls, and there will probably never be.

Again, Jackson's dumb. He should know better—in fact, he's known better in the past.

But for now, he played dumb.

* * *

They've been at it for a while. Or so, Jackson thinks. His thoughts tend towards incoherence whenever he's pressed against the familiar couch, naked, as Jinyoung turns him into an absolute mess.

The truth is, Jackson can't even finish a single sentence. He babbles, in what he hopes is Korean, filthy praises and breathless begs. The letters which compose Jinyoung's name linger in his mouth and Jackson rolls each syllable against his tongue repeatedly as a sinful prayer. Jackson whines—he wants to be torn apart, broken down, right here, on this sofa, and he wants nothing but Jinyoung's hands to direct his downfall.

Perhaps it'd be easier for Jackson to say something if Jinyoung wasn't rolling his hips at such a staggering pace. But only gasps escape his pretty swollen lips, and his thighs tremble, his toe curl under him, crushed by the immense growing pleasure within him.

The sounds of Jinyoung's skin against his makes Jackson delirious. He wants to hear it all the time, to capture it so that he can listen to the obscene melody they composed together over and over again. Feeling the lacy fabric against his skin whenever Jinyoung thrusts into him makes Jackson even more ecstatic. Jinyoung's been wearing lingerie a lot lately, to Jackson's greatest pleasure. He's shown him bits of his collection, each of them peaking Jackson's curiosity; and though the variety in fabrics is impressive, Jackson prefers the white lacy ones the best. He likes feeling the cotton against him, he likes pressing open mouth kisses on the fabric, all over Jinyoung's shaft, just to hear some cries of pleasure from above. He also tried to steal some once, because of how pretty they all are and how gorgeous Jinyoung looks in them, but Jinyoung had pinned him against a wall before he could even leave the apartment with his theft.

Jackson is thankful Jinyoung is holding him so firmly, hands locked on his hips, because he's never shaken this much. He's so overwhelmed: Jinyoung is always so good, he always knows exactly where to hit. He knows all of Jackson's soft spots and all of his favourite angles. In his arms, Jackson is nothing more than a puzzle Jinyoung has long solved.

Jinyoung's fingers press into his golden skin, right below Jackson's waistline, now covered in bruises of love—Jinyoung adores nipping this area of Jackson's body, and Jackson loves that Jinyoung likes it so much. It makes him want to crack himself further open.

Jackson's cock has never felt this heavy between his thighs—Jinyoung has neglected it on purpose, pretending as if he simply couldn't see the thickness of Jackson's arousal. It's so unfair. Jackson has been so good, he's been so pliant—for once—letting Jinyoung use him, spread him wide, challenge every ounce of him.

But the feel of Jinyoung's shaft inside him, thick and hard, filling him so well, distracts Jackson from his expanding heat. Jinyoung harsh thrusts are both a punishment and a reward, making Jackson dive further into the couch, as each of his moans is muffled by the leather.

Jinyoung falters the overwhelming pace from his hips and leans in smoothly. Jackson can feel his toned torso against his back, his breath against his neck. The plump lips he adores pepper kisses across his shoulder, and follow the lines of his neck lovingly—the touch is soft and makes the butterflies in Jackson's stomach flutter excitedly and fly even higher in his insides. Jinyoung's hands slide along Jackson's back and linger around his waist and his hips, soothing.

But instead of merely accepting the attention, Jackson whines—he wants Jinyoung to move again, to throw him over the edge, just to _feel_ something, something greater, something grander.

If only Jinyoung could roll his hips again, if only he could break him without being such a tease.

"Hmm—'nyoungie—please—"

He sounds so awfully desperate under Jinyoung, legs trembling, toes curling, his large cock throbbing against his stomach. He always becomes louder with each whine, more shameless with each of Jinyoung ministrations, each more teasing than the other.

He's never been so loud and Jinyoung thrives off his raspy voice, his pantless begs, his coos, his whimpers. He captures each of them, and locks them right here, in his cluttered apartment so that Jackson always recalls them whenever he steps in.

A few kisses are pressed on Jackson's cheek. Affectionate and loving. To a certain extent.

"You're so good Seun-ah, so, so, good," Jinyoung whispers, blowing on the wet spots of Jackson's neck, before burying his face further in the tanned complexion. "Wish I could have you like this all the time."

The words make Jackson shiver. Jinyoung only likes having him like this, all spread for him, all wet and ready for him to use as long as he needs. There's this terrible analogy Jackson can't quite get out of his head: him, a simp, nothing but a stress ball for Jinyoung to grope. It's how they had settled things a couple of months ago— _sure_ —but Jackson... Jackson wants more. Don't get him wrong, he loves it when Jinyoung takes him like that, when he spreads him wide and gets Jackson so worked up, he's an absolute moaning mess.

In fact, he loves all of it.

It's so good and Jinyoung is fantastic, but, _fuck_ , Jackson wants to be held differently, he wants to be kissed, he wants to be loved and cherished so very badly.

And it's so unfair Jinyoung won't save his heart for him. When Jackson's mind depicts his daydreams, it always seems just right. They send one another sugarcoated texts at the most random times, each notification awakening their goofiness. Jackson takes Jinyoung everywhere: to the nearest coffee shops, to class, to his place, to the park, to the museum—all sorts of places where he could have him all for himself. They spend time looking into each other's eyes lovingly, they make love, swallow the other’s laughs and moans, and intertwine their fingers as an unbreakable promise.

Reality always crashes onto him before Jackson can polish his fantasies.

"Don't—don't say things you don't mean," Jackson stutters—Jinyoung is so deep inside him he can feel the thickness of his length up in his throat.

A snap from Jinyoung's hips. Jackson whimpers—the high-pitched sound fills the room and blends itself with the intoxicating smell of sex that clung to the walls.

"You don't mean that either."

Jackson whines. He's not right. But he's not wrong either. He bites his lower lip harshly as an answer—his heart so swollen it doesn't fit in his chest anymore.

He whines even louder when Jinyoung suddenly slips out of him, leaving Jackson terribly empty when he was _so_ full, when he felt _so_ good around him, only to flip him on his back.

Jinyoung steals a kiss from Jackson's puffy lips. Then another. And another. His gorgeous deadly tongue brushes against Jackson's mouth, hungry, inviting, yet still loving— _somehow_ —and Jackson lets him in, cracks himself open as he brings his hands to cup Jinyoung's face to kiss him back, deep and slow.

When Jinyoung plunges back into him, Jackson feels as if his need for love has been wiped out in the loveliest way there is. He locks away every chunk of his feelings and buries them deep inside him so that no one—not even Jinyoung—can see. These are for Jackson and Jackson only, and fuck it if he never gets to share them with the man above him. It doesn't matter. He's stronger than this.

Or so he likes to think.

Jinyoung rocks his hips again, his moves first steady but languorous, and Jackson is slowly fucked into the couch. Enchanting gasps leave his mouth with each roll of Jinyoung's hips, escalating and staggering and Jackson can feel Jinyoung's smirks and grins against his lips as Jackson gets louder and louder. He's much more intense now, quivering and squirming underneath the broadness of Jinyoung's chest.

When he's played enough, Jinyoung quickens the pace, his strokes breaking Jackson into thousands of pieces as they both desperately seek their release. Jackson is shattered, wrecked, fractured, but as long as it's Jinyoung's arms holding him close, dismantling him bit by bit, he can't care less.

There’s nothing but the sound of skin against skin and mouth against mouth above them.

* * *

The sun has long set when they finally leave the couch to reach Jinyoung’s room, legs wobbly, still shaking from the immense pleasure they’ve just unleashed. As he collapses on the bed, Jackson can feel that Jinyoung isn’t quite done with him yet, and he understands the other’s intentions fully as he feels the pair for strong hands spreading his legs across the mattress. Jackson can only whimper under Jinyoung’s broad figure, his entire body falling into over-sensitivity.

He’s thankful his head is pinned against one of Jinyoung’s soft pillow: the leather, though it is premium, isn’t as welcoming as the soft white cotton sheets. He’s much more comfortable here, surrounded by cotton, with Jinyoung slamming into him from behind.

A sigh.

Jackson still wishes he could hold Jinyoung closer to his heart.

* * *

“Are you writing something?”

Jackson’s hands have lost themselves beneath the bedsheets underneath which they lay. They’ve wandered across the fine lines of Jinyoung’s body, roamed over the sharp lines of his abs, and lingered around his hips. Jackson has thumbed each bit of the smooth and milky skin gently, affectionately, as it was the most precious thing he has ever touched.

When he lowers his fingertips to Jinyoung’s inner thighs, Jackson begins to write. He’s got a lot on his mind. He can’t quite see what he’s doing nor if he’s doing it right but he’s focused. Each stroke is slow and delicate. They’re as measured as they can possibly be.

See, when they had settled their arrangement, Jackson hadn’t expected that five months forward he’d have an endless list of things he wished he could whisper against Jinyoung’s lips. Yet there he is, thighs heavy and still sensitive from Jinyoung’s ministrations, with so much love to give it spills out of his hands. It’s funny Jinyoung is so damn oblivious, but Jackson can’t tell whether he wants him to see any of it or not. Perhaps it is better for Jinyoung not to see.

That’s why he simply nods as an answer, not specifying that he’s scribbling the Chinese character for love across his thigh.

He’s already laid out the first strokes: the wind and the rainy dots—the stormy weathers they shall face together. He tries his best to place each trait at its rightful place, though it’s quite a challenge to do so when he can feel Jinyoung’s dark and soft gaze upon him.

Jackson doesn’t dare look back into his eyes, however. He’d rather lose himself in the wrinkles of the bedsheets.

Jinyoung spreads his legs a little wider, offering more surface to Jackson’s calligraphy.

“Is this Cantonese?”

The voice is so soft and lovely it could be deadly. Jackson hums. He draws the ceiling under which their hearts shall be protected. “What are you writing Seun-ah?”

“Nothing you need to know,” Jackson grins sheepishly. He’s almost done. It’s almost complete.

“Tell me.”

There isn’t much Jackson can refuse Jinyoung. Whatever he asks for, Jackson gives it to him, willingly. He’d breach himself if he asked. He’d do so much.

But not today. Today he keeps it all to himself.

He’s about to draw the very last traits when Jinyoung moves his thigh away and leans towards Jackson. Their lips meet and Jackson can’t help but moan into the kiss—Jinyoung’s hands cup his face lovingly, holding him close, as he swallows each of Jackson’s breaths with his mouth.

The murmurs laid upon his lips make Jackson shiver.

“Tell me, Jackson, I want to know.”

There’s probably a pink blush colouring Jackson’s cheeks, and Jackson hopes it isn’t too bright. He presses into the flesh firmly, making Jinyoung jolt at the touch. He traces the last stroke with his index. Jinyoung’s eyes are wide, full of anticipation, but Jackson’s are even wider.

“Someday,” Jackson whispers smoothly, his exhale caressing Jinyoung’s lips gingerly, “Someday I’ll tell you, I promise.”

Their lips brush against each other and fall into another steering kiss. Jackson himself isn’t so sure whether he just lied or not.

**Author's Note:**

> well, well, well 
> 
> yes, i am still very much working on the last sfasp update. ~~I'm also meant to finish my coding lab.~~ it'll be up soon, i promise. 
> 
> once again, you are very welcome to come yell at me on [twitter](twitter.com/kittog__) and/or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/kittog) where you can also give me some prompts for some drabbles if you'd like, they're fun to write. (and if anyone has ideas for a part 3... hit me up?)
> 
> feel free to leave a comment and share with me what your thoughts (and Thots) on this! it is my first time writing something _this_ explicit and i am very Insecure™. 
> 
> anywho, I'll go do my homework now! thank you very much for reading <33 
> 
> p.s.: to miah, i hope you've enjoyed this one too!! i love you so much!! big big love!!


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